Why Look, It's Rusty!

Why It's a Dragon, He Exclaimed.

Sepia Saturday: A Child's Garden of Dysfunction

(Our weekly contribution to Sepia Saturday.)

"Somewhere along the delicate axis of fact and fiction, one discovers that odd curiosity we choose to embrace as 'truth'."
-- Clarissa Bernstein Ben Zvi Dunlap
(1894-1964)
Third wife of Dr. Q. Nestor Ben Zvi

Though virtually forgotten today, in the late 19th century and early 20th century Q. Nestor Ben Zvi was one of the most widely read authors and most sought after speakers of the era, reputedly having more readers and having given lectures to cumulatively larger audiences than those of Dickens, Twain and Darwin combined.

Granted, he never wrote a single volume intended for a mass audience, but his tomes intended for the industrial and academic sectors are considered to have been a key bridge between the European industrial revolution and the rise of the American assembly line and mass manufacturing. He further forged some of the leading theories on child psychology that many authorities feel are still embedded in the collective American psyche like a deep, glaring scar.
Born in Banja Luka, Herzegovina, in 1873, little Nestor joined his family who immigrated first to Denmark when he was 18 months and then to Baltimore where they lived for three years before his father established a small ale house on Hester Street while young Nestor and his 16 siblings toiled in a button factory where much of his psychological theory evolved through personal toil and triumph. By the age of 14 he rose to a shift manager, overseeing children aged five to eight and was praised by the upper management for his ability to maximize productivity while minimizing complaints, injury and lost limbs. By the age of 16 he published the first of his many pamphlets and soon was much in demand by other factory owners as a speaker on how to get the most out of waif and ragamuffin workers.
So impressed were these captains of industry, that they invited him to take their on own children. In 1896 he was appointed the head of collective corrections at the Finger Lakes Institute for Juvenile Mental Hygiene in Mount Kisco, New York. The Institute was funded by a circle of the East Coast's leading millionaires who were eager for Nestor to "fix" their naughty children. One of the unexpected by-products of the Gilded Age was -- despite the advance of wealth, electricity and indoor plumbing -- what these blue bloods considered to be barbaric behavior among their wee ones. In an era where children were meant to be seen and not heard, these decidedly vocal heirs to the New World were sent to Mount Kisco to be muted and corrected. The registry of family names was kept top secret, but as one anonymous nurse observed, "The pedigrees are so prestigious and the children's behavior so heinous that these are clearly the children of the wealthiest of first cousins or worse."

It was here that Nestor (who earned a dubious doctorate from the Trinidad Academy of Cultured Pearl Contemplation and Psychological Studies at age 22) was now known as Dr. Ben Zvi and developed some of his breakthroughs on child misbehavior management. While originally the children were housed in the various dormitories regardless of their place of origin, he soon observed a direct link between geography and dysfunction. There were the Beacon Hill Booger Eaters. Then it was discovered that the Institute had a wing of the Manic Masturbators of the Philadelphia Mainline. From out West, there were the Persistent Pimple Poppers of Pacific Heights. When grouped by location and ailment, Dr. Ben Zvi discovered that he was able to treat these ailments with greater efficiency and speed, closely echoing Henry Ford's assembly line. (He would later try to cure the Ford children's strident anti-Semitism.)

All was going along swimmingly until a Harper's writer, posing as a distant Cabot cousin, descended on the Institute, questioning Dr. Ben Zvi's methods and daring to name the names of the gilded register at the front desk. Although a healthy "stipend" managed to suppress the story, Dr. Ben Zvi and his patients were forced to flee to an obscure hacienda outside of Montevideo where they could be observed without intervention or judgment.

It was here that Dr. Ben Zvi began writing his masterwork as he started also receiving the children of Europe's crowned heads of state, Latin American and African colonialists and the entire brood of the King of Siam.

Published in 1908 with the names changed, A Child's Garden of Dysfunction was as captivating as it was bizarre. Written in a loose, lilting verse with strange line drawing of his subjects, it featured entries like this:

Puffy Priscilla of Pompei
Ate 90 cream horns every day
Weighing in at 30 stone
There was a lot of blubber on her bones

Icky Heinrich from Düsseldorf
Chewed on hay just like a horse
When off to school he was called
He always came bucking from his stall

Wretched Rudolf from Monterery
Got great joy chewing razor blades
His bloody tongue and tortured jaw
Brought him looks of shock and awe

Though controversial and intended for a practitioner audience, the book was soon a huge hit, especially with children themselves who would memorize and sing the verses while playing ball or jumping rope. Dr. Ben Zvi was on his way back from a lecture tour of Europe when he perished on the Titanic in 1912. Ironically, he did not drown but was shot when caught trying to push his way to the front of a line of women and children trying to board a lifeboat.

From a Gentleman's Library

A favorite Sunday activity is checking out the Civic Center farmers market and the Friends of the Library Book Bay. Both have curious bargains. This Sunday I was intrigued by a shelf with the heading "From a Gentleman's Library". There were several dozen beautifully bound and beautifully illustrated volumes, most published before the mid-1920s. I was tempted to buy all of them since few were more than $8.
I did end up going home with a few volumes. This particular one was part of the series called The Home University Bookshelf that features short stories accompanying famous paintings as well as a songbook. Below is an example of the type of tales it spins. I hope you enjoy. Check in, I may share more.

All Thoughts Are Prey to Some Beast

I think every adult should read at least one children's book a year. With each advancing decade, I'd add one more book a year. I've been pretty much on that course, but none have grabbed me much since 2007's The Invention of Hugo Cabret.

Last night Friendatella and I treated Jim of The Blue Elephant to a birthday dinner at Aperto up on Potrero Hill. Afterward, we strolled into Christopher's Books -- a really sweet or pretentious independent bookstore, depending on your mood or world view. (I fall into the former camp.) I've always grabbed a book or two when I walk in, sometimes wondering if I should have ordered it off Amazon and saved a few dollars, but I've never regretted a purchase there. Last night was no exception.

They were playing tunes by tunes by Bill Callahan/(SMOG) who could be defined as deeply moving or pretentious depending on your world view. (I fall into the former camp.) I'd noted on our way to dinner the book on the right, and hearing and feeling Bill's free form monotone drone and (I feared) the influence of two glasses of pinot grigio, I immediately purchased The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet by Reif Larsen. Unlike The Invention of Hugo Cabret, it's not really a graphic novel but has tons of graphic sidebars. It tells the tale of a 12-year-old prodigy from Divide, Montana, who hops the rails to accept a prestigious award from the Smithsonian and makes more than visceral discoveries on his journey. It's sort of a pre-teen On the Road and Candide as if furnished by Paxton Gate with a little influence from the ghost of Andrew Wyeth and then posted on Facebook.

After dinner, Jim took us on a tour of his old neighborhood, showing us a gorgeous house that has sat vacant for years, the scene of a murder where a wonderful, creative couple were tortured and then killed by an acquaintance from down the street. It was a disturbing coda to a pleasant night, and reason to take stock of treasures and loved ones needing protection and to be open but wary of strangers knocking at the door.

Let Me Read That Picture

One of my most precious memories is the sound, the rhythm, the cadence, the -- dare I say it in this election year -- the nuance of either of my parents reading to me as I fell into sleep. I think they did it well after I passed age 11 or 12. Each had their unique, specific cadence that brought different meaning when either read to me. I know that Mike Muligan and The Little House were read to me. Thus, I have enjoyed watching a bio of the life of Virginia Lee Burton tonight, one of those illustrators whom I am sure I recall, and whose visuals take me back to those voices that brought such comfort between the warmth of tie quilts and the chill of mid-January prairie nights filled with frost and coyotes in the near distance.

I Want to Live That Happily Ever After

With all the hoopla over how voting no on Prop. 8 will corrupt our children by bringing home the book King & King that is featured prominently in the Yes on Prop 8 ads, I was curious if this little book was fiction or not. This short book originally published in the Netherlands seems very sweet, and the only thing shocking surrounding the books are the parents in the ads who are appalled that it's wrong to teach their elementary children to be tolerant and respectful.

Oh, and apparently there is a sequel called King & King & Family. Such stories aren't fairy tales from a pretend land but civilized countries such as Canada, Spain, the Netherlands, etc. In the meantime, the Yes on Prop. 8 seem to think Zimbabwe is a superior cultural role model instead of western Europe.

UPDATE: Just a couple of minutes after posting this and being depressed by the amount of money being squandered on the pro-Prop. 8 campaign to allow people like the dim-witted bigots from out of state featured above, I ran into my neighbor Laura who got married a couple of weeks ago. She sighed and said that they may just have a couple more weeks of being legal. Then she told me that I could honor them by making a donation in their honor to the no on Prop. 8 campaign. It felt good to know that I took Anne and Laura from 40% to 90% of their goal. I urge you to go here and do the same, even if it's for strangers. The good karma will come back to you

But We Won't Be Watching the Olsen Twin Videos

After going gaga over the Georges Méliès inspired children's book The Invention of Hugo Cabret during the holidays and its Steampunk ethos, Junk Thief may have found a new kids lit book that speaks to him. Diary of Wimpy Kid by Jeff Kinney lacks the visual sophistication of Cabret, but as the above image shows, it speaks to something very primal and familiar. What is this all saying about Junk Thief if the most compelling new books are those aimed at the "tween" set?

To learn more, this article in New York this week is a good review of this newest submarket.